Gold Dust
by Anastacia-Gwydion
Summary: Marisa Coulter's thoughts and memories as she plummets down the abyss: lots of original stuff, but very few original characters! Ozymandias settling into the golden monkey; her first meeting with Asriel; the birth of Lyra etc. My first fanfic so please r
1. Default Chapter

Gold Dust

Prologue

  
  
_**Disclaimer:** Everyone is Pullman's except for David Coulter and the story, which are MINE!  
  
This is my first fanfic so please review it! If you're going to flame me then make it a productive flame - like say why you dislike it so I can do something about it, don't just say 'This is crap' etc.  
  
Anyways, these are the thoughts of Marisa Coulter as she falls into the abyss. The style of each chapter will be similar - something she sees will trigger a memory. I've tried to make these memories original while tallying them with the books but sometimes I have used artist's licence so bear with me!_

  
  
I am wondering if I will think like this forever, or if there comes a point when all thought stops.  
  
There is no notion of time in this great darkness, only thought. I think I have been here for three days. Or three nights. It makes little difference.  
  
I wonder if this darkness has a bottom? You see I would say that I was 'falling', or 'plummeting', but how does one fall if there is nothing to land on at the bottom of the drop?  
  
It has been three nights since Asriel and I pulled Metatron into the abyss. Then my lover died, and the snow leopard faded. Now my Ozymandias lies swooning in my arms and I know I will not last long.  
  
I am alone, and there is nothing in the universe but these sweet moments of silence, and the falling, and the gold shimmers that float around me, and my beloved daemon.  
  
_He is me._  
  
I look down at the poor broken image of myself. His long golden fur no longer gleams, and his paws are curled into feeble fists, as if he would fight the oncoming gloom.  
  
_The gold dust shines like my daemon's fur._


	2. Ozymandias

Gold Dust

Ozymandias

  
  
_**Disclaimer:** Everyone is Pullman's except for David Coulter and the story, which are MINE!_

***

_The gold dust shines like my daemon's fur._

I remember how I never used to want Ozymandias to settle. He would stop me from lying, that I could do so well; that I thought was my one talent. His favourite shape was always a bird, I remember: a sparrow that would twitter incessantly and then look at me with adorable eyes and maybe peck my ear, so I couldn't be annoyed with him. He could never stop talking when I was young, like me, I suppose. When I was just a girl, like my Lyra, I would boast of having achieved my fantasies: of fighting a cliff-ghast; of capturing a lonely castle that was only inhabited by ghosts. But as I grew up, when I became a woman, I talked less and less, except on social occasions, when it was my duty to perform. The reason? I had really begun to fulfil my dreams, but not by means I really approved of. Ozy grew quieter as well, from shame of himself, but never of me. I think he always felt that, as the embodiment of my soul, my crimes were his fault. In truth I wished I could be more like him - loving, obedient, with some sort of conscience.

Then one morning, I woke up after the most wonderful dream, and he wasn't there. I sat up so suddenly I suppose I couldn't hear his moans from under the bed. And I panicked; where was he? My soul? My other half? My good half? I thought perhaps those who were truly evil lost their daemons, as a warning to others: do not touch this girl-woman. Then he spoke from under my bed: "I can't come out. I can't be with you."

"Why not?" I strained to see under the bed, but it was too dark.

"I can't... I can't _change_ anymore Mary."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've settled! I can't change shape. Whatever will you _do_?"

"What... what are you?" I said tremblingly.

Then he crawled out, his eyes for all the world like that sparrow's. And something burst inside of me: "You're beautiful" I whispered, and his poor miserable, gorgeous golden face grew into a smile, and the smile spread to my heart, and he crawled into my arms again and we were one.

"I didn't know someone like me could have such a beautiful daemon."

"That's because I'm your soul." Then he added ruefully, "I'm not your mind."

Then we understood the passion burning inside us and the conflict we faced: he would always turn to the good, but he so wished to please me. I would always turn to evil, but all I wanted was to be as beautiful as he was. Yet my mind ruled my heart: I had the stronger will, and so we begun our more dreadful career.

Then, one early morning, a Gallivespian stung me on the ankle and my little girl walked over my anguished body and away with a boy called Will. It was only then, after twenty three years of battling with my own soul, I realised that I _was_ that beautiful inside, for I had felt _love_.


End file.
